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Punk Piscoratti

I love finding articles that take you to improbable places.  In A Peruvian Cocktail in The Washington Post, John Briley introduces the Peruvian Woody Allen before crossing paths with the Godfather on his way to La Reyna Bodega in Catapalla, a small town south of Lima, to meet piscoratti Godofredo Gonzales:

He gestures us to some plastic chairs, pulls out a bottle of pisco and ruminates on pisco quality and history. He shakes the bottle back and forth rapidly, like a metronome set to the Sex Pistols, then stops it sharply with a flick of his wrist, creating a twister of bubbles inside the bottle.

“See the rose at the top?” he says. “And the stem? High quality — no hangover here!” He reaches for the cups. “If you see the stem but no rose, there are impurities.” He metes out a round of silky-smooth shots, then another. “With good pisco you can drink half a liter of pisco sour and have no headache the next day.”

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